News From the Refuge
by Bookquoting-machine
Summary: "I bring news." "What kind of news?" Jack asked skeptically. "News from the Refuge." "What's your name?" "Kyle." "Quite a masculine name for a girl."
1. Chapter 1

The Refuge was cold. There are many bad things to say about the refuge, but that's what I'll remember most.

My first order of business was to find a young man. A young man by the name of Jack Kelley, and then, find some scissors. A knife would work too, but scissors were much safer for cutting hair. My hair had grown down to my shoulders while I was stuck in their, but the length of it made my gender even more obvious.

The night was dark and I ran through the streets, looking for the building which I was told would be home for the newsies. Or some of them. This one apparently was the home for the infamous Jack Kelley. I was told, head straight for the roof and if it was before 5 in the morning he would most definitely be there.

However, as I wound through the streets I came across a heavenly smell. You rarely got food in the refuge and I knew that this smell came from a bakery. The bakery wouldn't be open at this time, because the sun wasn't up yet and not a single person walked the streets, so it would be quite simple to slip in and grab a treat. So, forgetting my mission, I followed my nose.

The bakery was a small building at the end of the street and didn't have a very suitable lock, as it only took me a minute to slip inside. I ducked down, took in my surroundings and hid behind a counter. Someone was across the room, humming to themselves and rolling out some dough. It seemed like they didn't notice me enter, so I reached up and stuffed a few rolls in my bag. Then, shoved one into my mouth and turned back to the still open door.

I realized as I tried to leave that I had missed a loose board on my way in. I didn't miss it on my way out. I tripped and dropped the roll in my mouth on the way to the door. The person rolling dough gasped and before I could get caught, I got up and ran.

The streets were still empty, but the baker screaming and chasing after me no doubt got some attention. I wove through the streets hoping to lose them, but it took a while, much longer than expected. I found a hiding place, but couldn't leave for over half an hour, settling on eating a roll while I waited. Now I only had two left, but it was more than enough to get me to where I needed to be.

It must have been after five when I left, but I hoped, with the newsboys on strike, Jack would still be there. Walking carefully, I found my way to the roof to find two abandoned sleeping bags.

 _Disappointing,_ I thought, _but no matter. This town's not that big._

And sure enough, a young boy was able to point me in the right direction.

"David," he said honestly, shaking my hand. "Jack Kelley's a friend of mine. A few days ago, his friend got taken to the Refuge and no ones seen him since. I have an idea where to go though."

He began weaving down the streets, attempting to make small talk. "What's your name?"

"Kyle." I looked down, feeling the confusion cross his face.

"Quite a masculine name for a girl, don't you think?"

"Well, ask any newsboy in Brooklyn and I ain't girl." He raised an eyebrow and I felt the need to continue. "A girl newsboy is not going to sell papes."

"You're a newsie?!"

"What? Only boys need to eat?"

He look shocked at this response but didn't argue. A few minutes later he spoke up again.

"I think you'd sell more papes as a girl."

I smirked. "Why's that?"

"A girl with short hair who can't afford to buy a skirt would get more sympathy than a normal boy."

"I don't need anyone's _pity._ " I spat.

He stopped to look at me and responded with, "Any newsie, especially one in Brooklyn, should know that pity sells. And you could very obviously use the money, looking at your ribcage."

"I'm ain't thin because I can't afford no food. I have my ways of surviving. I'm thin because they don't feed you much in the Refuge."

"You're from the Refuge?"

"I am and unless we're here, I'd like to keep going."

"I- uh… It's just down the road." He replied with wide eyes.

"Let's go then."

He began to walk again. "So, what do you want with Jack Kelley? Is this about Brooklyn's stance on the strike?"

"No, it's not."

He didn't look satisfied with that answer, but all he said was, "We're here," and stopped in front of a small theater.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You newsboys hang in a theater? Why the hell would you sleep in the streets if you could afford tickets to see," I squinted to look at the sign, "… Miss Medda Larkin?"

"Who said we could afford tickets?" he said, then ran up the fire escape stairs and jumped in a window.

 _Can't get in anymore trouble today, can I?_ I followed suit and found myself in the catwalk backstage. David waited for me to walk up to continue through the catwalk until we came across a boy talking to a very large woman in a frilly dress.

David sighed, "How about lettin' a pal know your alive? Where'd'ya go, we couldn't find ya." Then, ran for the stairs leading down from the catwalk. I followed him, assuming this boy was the one I was looking for.

"You ever think I didn't wanna be found?" he snarled, then looked at me. "Who's this?"

"Kylee by birth, but you call me that and I'll slit your throat. I go by Kyle." I crossed my arms.

"Is that a real place? Is that Santa Fe? Hey! Did you see the pape? We're front page news above the fold! Oh yes! Above the fold!" He showed off, pointing at the picture that was indeed above the fold.

"Good for you." Mr. Kelley responded sarcastically.

"Hey! Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelley."

"Is that what she's doing here?" He said, pointing an accusatory finger my way.

"No way do I care about you guys or your little strike. I bring news."

"What kind of news?" Jack asked skeptically.

"News from the Refuge."

Their questions were interrupted by a young boy that shouted, "Look there he is! Just like I said!"

I looked up to see a child of about 10 and a girl my age up on the catwalk.

"Where does a fellow gotta go to get away from here?!" Jack shouted.

"Oh there's no escaping us pal!" David retorted. "We're inevitable."

The young boy made it down and said, "So what's the story? Can we have the theata?"

"Pipe down, I haven't asked him yet!" David ran to the boy.

"Look!" I felt the need to butt in. "I'm not here for your strike or your drama."

"Who's that?" The little boy asked.

"You look like hell." The girl suddenly said.

"Hey Jack! Where's that supposed to be?"

"Its Santa Fe." David replied.

"Ugh. Well I gotta tell you Jack, this go west young man routine is getting tiring. Even Horace Greeley moved back to New York."

"Yes he did," The child said, "And then he died."

"I don't _care_ about your obsession with Santa Fe." I tried again, but it was no use. They just kept talking.

"Can we get back to business? Will Medda let us have the theata?" I was starting to get the feeling this child was pretty arrogant kid.

"That's what I've been trying to tell ya!" David ran to Jack. "We want to hold a rally… A city wide meeting where every newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after work hours. So no one loses a days pay. Smart?"

Jack looked disgusted. "Yeah. Smart enough to get you commited to a padded room."

"What? The guy who paints places he's never seen is calling us crazy?" The girl looked defiant but she wasn't very intimidating in her pink dress and pretty curls. I bet she had never been hungry in her life.

"You want to see a place I've seen? How about this?" He asked venomously. He swung the beautiful painting around to reveal a horrible sketch of a large boot stepping on a bunch of kids. I wasn't there for the strike, but I hadn't heard it was anywhere near this bad. Everything I had heard came from a pretty optimistic young boy.

"Newsies Square! Thanks to my big mouth," he announced. He rambled on until David interrupted.

"Lighten up, no one died."

"Oh IS THAT WHAT YOUR AIMING FOR?"

"LISTEN! Both of you!" I shouted over their argument. "Do you really think that it's going to end with death?"

"There ain't no way I'm putting those kids back in danger."

"We're doing something that's never been done before, how could that not be dangerous?" David said, though I wasn't sure whether he was talking to me or Jack.

"I have a letter. A letter from your friend, Crutchie."

Jack looked sadly, "It don't matter. I tried to see Crutchie, at the Refuge." He turned to David. "I slipped around back and I climbed the fire escape. They busted him up so bad, HE COULDN'T EVEN COME TO THE WINDOW!"

"He told me to give this to you! He said it was urgent that you got it!" I shouted over him. "He wrote it this morning."

I rummaged through my bag, then pulled out the letter and shoved it at him. He quickly ripped it open and began reading. "I'm not a part of your fight, but it's far from over. If a boy like Crutchie can still be so optimistic, so willing to fight, you must be a pretty good friend. So David, if you would do the honors of drilling your ideas of grandeur into Jack's head, I have a crippled boy to save."

David smiled at me, then turned to Jack, who was slowly finishing the letter. "Tell me how quitting does Crutchie any good?"

"I- its-"

"Exactly! So here's how it goes, once we win, and we will be winning make no mistake."

"We'll be what?"

"We're already winning-"

"Right!"

"And Kyle'll tell em straight out they let Crutchie go or they keep getting pounded."

"It's just not that easy." I replied in the same tone of voice.

"Dave what the hell did they bust up your brains or something, as I recall Dave, we all got our asses kicked. They won!"

"Won the battle!"

"Oh come on!"

"Jackie think about it we've got them surrounded."

"Here's what I think Joe's a jerk. He's a rattlesnake."

"You're right! And you know why a snake starts to rattle."

"No why?"

"Cause he's scared. Go and look it up, the poor guys head is spinning."

"He'll lose everything see-" I added, the same way.

"Why would he send for the goons, an entire army, dozens of goons and the cops and-"

"You know you may be right."

"Thank you God!"

"If he wasn't afraid."

"Exactly!"

"He knows we're winning."

"Get those kids to see we're circling victory and watch what happens. We're doing something no ones even tried and yes we're terrified, but watch what happens."

"You can't undo the past."

"So just move on and stay on track. Cause Humpty Dumpty is about to crack."

"We've got faith."

"We've got the plan."

"And we've got Jack!"

"So just watch what happens. We're back!"

"And I've got a date!" The little boy finished.

"A date?" I heard as Dave, the girl, and the little boy, made for the exit, but Jack didn't move.

"How is he?" He asked slowly.

"Depends, was he able to walk when you knew him?" I joked, but Jack flinched and I lost my attitude.

"He'll be fine. I wasn't jokin' about bustin him outta there. That kid means a lot to me by now."

"That kid is my brother! He's my family! If he don't make it back-"

"Calm down." I reached into my bag and pulled out one of the rolls and threw it at him. "I will bring him straight up to that rooftop with your sleeping bags and patch him up, good as new. I know what its like to almost lose a brother."

"Oh yeah? What brother would that be?" He took a large bite out of the roll without so much as a thank you. Not that I was expecting one.

"Spot Conlon. And no, not by blood. But I can't wait to see him again. He'll be here tomorrow right?"

"He will." Jack agreed. And by the look in his eye I could see it. We weren't gonna give up now. He's got his strike and I got my family to protect. The newsboys of Brooklyn wouldn't survive long without me anyway.

"Oh, and in case I don't see him again, tell David that I might just adopt his idea."

"Sure thing." And with that, he spit into his hand, holding it out for me to shake.

I smiled and did the same.

"Nice meeting you Kyle."

"Likewise." I went to leave, but turned abruptly and said, "Oh, do you have any scissors?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Kyle, please. I'm tired."

The small boy besides me breathed heavily. He sure did look tired. He was leaning up against his crutch and I could catch him occasionally rub his eyes. But could we afford to stop?

"I'll look for a spot to rest for a few minutes, but we have to keep walking. I know it's dark, but that'll just makes us look more suspicious. If we get caught-"

"They'll send us back. I know, I know."

"I don't want to be harsh, I really don't. But I can't afford to go back there. Can you?"

"No… But, please, lemme sit for a bit."

I sighed, and pulled him along, weaving through the streets, looking for an alley or abandoned building to stay in. We eventually came across a small alley with multiple trash cans that we could use as cover from any wandering police.

Crutchie sat down immediately behind a garbage can and set his crutch down. "Thank you. I normally can go pretty far without getting tired, but recently… well since the strike I've been in pretty bad condition and I have been sleeping the past couple of days, and-"

"It's alright. I get it."

I sat down across from him and kept a look out.

"Kyle?"

"Mhmm?"

"How d'ya get stuck in the Refuge?"

It was an honest question, and I sighed. "About a month ago, the Brooklyn Newsies were having some trouble with these freaks. I'm sure you heard about it."

He nodded. "I heard there were rich boys who were breaking the wagons and soaking the papers."

"They were doing more than that," I explained. "They were stealing the newsboys sleeping bags while they were at work, and throwing rocks through the windows as they slept. They basically made it impossible to live. We can't sell wet papers, or papers that don't arrive, and then, we couldn't sleep, couldn't afford to eat. So, Spot asked me to get rid of them."

"You? What did he expect you to do? No offense. You're so strong and scary, I know you could beat one of 'em, but there were quite a few weren't there?"

"Yes," I sighed. "5. And Spot sent me because I'm unassuming. I'm a girl-"

"You don't look like it," he interrupted.

"-And I can get away much faster than a group of boys. So I went. But, I had to follow them one night after they tormented us, and they went far. I mean, it was the middle of the night and they were walking through the streets for about twenty minutes. And I know that they don't have to worry about getting locked up like we do. They're obviously not poor kids, so they can walk the streets whenever they like, but why would they go that far just to torture some newsboys? And then, they had stopped suddenly. And they stood in the center of a large square just talking quietly amongst themselves. I assumed that this was my chance to get at 'em. So, I walked out of my hiding spot and approached them and asked for some food. Ya know? To look like a sad, poor orphan girl, so that they would take pity on me, and then I would attempt to beat 'em up. Just enough so that they wouldn't come near us again, but it didn't go as planned. As soon as I approached them, two grabbed my arms and held me back. I guess one of them saw me followin' 'em. It didn't end well for me. They left me in the center of the square with a black eye, busted lip, sprained ankle, and a few broken ribs. Well, when the policeman found me, it was no surprise to find myself in the refuge when I woke up the next morning. I've been in there since."

"That's horrible," Crutchie said. "Does Spot know?"

I looked at him, confused. "Does Spot know what?"

"What happened to you?"

I thought about it. I _had_ thought about it. And in all honesty, I hoped he didn't.

"I don't think so. I mean, we were really close. He's the only one that I will let call me a girl. If he knew where I was, he probably would have come to see me. Or at least sent me something."

"What do you think he thinks happened to you?"

I hadn't really thought about that.

"Maybe he thinks I ran away? Or found somewhere else to sell papes? Or went back to my family?"

"Went back…?"

We stared at each other for a minute, before I decided that we should go.

"Look, I'm not going to go on and on about what a horrible life I've had. Every newsie is a newsie because of a bad life situation. I mean, what about you? Where's your family?"

He looked down. "I don't need a family."

"Sure you don't. I'm just saying, if your a newsie, you probably don't have parents, or they died, or they can't work, or they are in extreme poverty, or they abandoned you-"

"Yeah. I get it." His tone told me that I had probably gone too far with the whole reality check.

"Anyways, we should get going. I have something to do tonight, so I'd like to get to your rooftop as soon as possible."

He didn't question the request, just grabbed his crutch and used it to lift himself up. "Alright. I'm not as tired, so I'll be able to keep up with you."

"Good."

It didn't take us much longer to get there and up onto the roof.

"Jack's… not here," Crutchie said slowly.

"He'll probably be here soon," I responded, but I knew it wasn't true. I knew where Jack was, but if I told Crutchie, he'd want to go, and I didn't think he could in his condition.

I led him to his sleeping bag and helped him settle in. "Okay. I can probably be back here tomorrow morning to check on you and bring you some food."

"Oh, you don't have to bring me anything," he interjected. "I can buy my own food."

"Not recently. You've been in the Refuge for a few days. That's a few days less cash. And there's no way me or Jack will let you back onto the streets tomorrow in this condition."

He smirked. "In what condition? I've always had a limp you know. That's not going to go away."

I giggled. "You don't know that."

"And besides, I can't take your money."

"Who said I was paying for it?"

He looked shocked. "Wait, you're a thief?"

"Yeah, on occasion. Why is that so shocking?"

"Well, here in Manhattan, no one steals. If you need something, you can ask one of your friends, because someone surely has some extra food. Extra papes. Extra clothes. Extra cash."

It was my turn to be shocked. "Wow, you Manhattan boys are so organized. I don't get it. It's rare to find someone to 'share' with in Brooklyn, much less just give you some money. I do have to say, I'm impressed."

He smiled. "You should just stay here then."

"You know I can't do that." I sighed and decided to go. "I should probably get going. If I see Jack, I'll let him know you're here."

I started to walk away, when he said, "Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you… For everything."

I smiled. "No need to thank me," then made my way to the theater.

I got there pretty quickly and was able to walk right in. And the first thing I noticed was a man, attempting to hide behind the boys from Richmond. He was suspicious looking with his expensive clothing and calm look. Is he here to start a raid? Can he do that? Then, I noticed a huge wad of cash in his hand.

"But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer," Jack was saying, "and he has promised to not raise prices again for two years-"

There was an uproar from the crowd and the man smiled. Bribery.

"Jack Kelley!" The room went silent at the sound of my voice. Groups of boys stepped back from Jack and watched me approach him.

"Kyle?" Jack looked shocked.

"Kyle." David sounded relieved.

"Kyle?" Spot sounded like he was going to cry.

But I couldn't see anyone but Jack. Standing in the middle of the theater, giving up on his friends.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked.

"What do you mean? I-"

"I mean, what do you think is going to happen? Because I know, as much as you want to go to Santa Fe, you can't want it bad enough to do this. I can see your man in the back, waiting for you to ruin your friends life. But I could beat him up right now if I wanted to. Half the boys here could. In fact, I think your girlfriend up in the back over there could." I waved to the girl in the pink dress, but she didn't wave back. In fact, she looked shocked. Did she really think she could hid up there? "Now then, it isn't violence they are holding over your head, so what is it?"

He looked almost relieved. "You noticed?"

"What is it?" I asked more forcefully.

"Crutchie," he replied. "And Davey and Les. He threatened almost all of them." He gestured to the section of boys holding up the 'Manhattan' signs.

I couldn't help but laugh. "All of them? Jack, you do realize that if he got all of them, he wouldn't have any workers? That's how a strike works, isn't it?"

He looked away, obviously embarrassed.

"And Crutchie is fine. I wouldn't be here if he wasn't. He's up on the roof sleeping safely. And David and Les, they have family don't they? The Refuge can't lock 'em up with their parents to look out for 'em. Is that really why you caved?"

"And..." he started. "And what if I was right the whole time? How are we winning? The fact that Pulitzer can send any one of those boys to the Refuge is proof enough that he is at no disadvantage."

"No disadvantage? Jack, why is he threatening you, if he is at no disadvantage? Why does it matter so much to him that he threatens your friends and is giving you a ton of money?"

"I don't… I don't..."

"Prove me wrong Jack. Please. Because I would much rather you prove me wrong and lose, than just give up and let him win."

He looked at me with an unreadable expression… then smiled. "Thank you, Kyle." He said to me, before turning back to all of the people watching him. Waiting silently for his next move. "Newsies of New York… let's win this!"

Roars of agreement came from the crowd and everyone jumped up shouting. I nodded to Jack, then made my way to David, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank god you came, Kyle."

I was going to reply when chanting cut me off. While most of the attention was on Jack, who was ramping up the crowd, Brooklyn could be heard yelling, "Ky-le, Ky-le, Ky-le!"

"I'm sorry David. Would you excuse me?"

"Of course."

I ran past him, through the crowd to my family, the Brooklyn Newsies. And boy, were they happy to see me. I was greeted by cheers. Clapping. Handshakes. Pats on the back. Even the occasional hug.

"Where did you go?"

"Kyle, how could you leave us?"

"God, did we miss you."

"Do you know what you did to Spot?"

I wondered what that meant, but it didn't take me long to find out. Spot stood by himself, arms crossed, face stern. I was a bit disappointed by the lack of reaction.

"What? No, 'welcome back'?" I joked.

"Kyle, what happened?" He asked me seriously.

"What? It really matters that much to you? I'll tell you later. But honestly, I thought you'd be glad I was back."

"Kyle," he said more forcefully, and I could see tears form in his eyes. "What happened to you?"

"Why does it matter? Wait, what did you think happened?"

A lot of the boys looked uneasy. Finally, one of them, Ren, spoke up. "Kyle, the boys you went after that night, they came back the next morning."

I looked around as a lot of people looked down or away. I searched wildly for someone to catch my eye, but no one did, except Spot, who stood in the exact same position, still looking at me stoically, but I could see him holding back those tears.

"Spot..." I said slowly.

"I thought you were dead."

That hit me like a ton of blocks. He thought I was… dead? What had he done? What would I have done, if I thought he was dead?

He reached out and hugged me so hard, I was worried he was going to re-injure my still healing ribcage.

"You're alive. You're alive." He kept saying and I couldn't help but smile to myself. At least he cared.

"Spot!" Jack called from onstage. We both pulled back as Jack beckoned the honorary leader of Brooklyn onstage with him.

After Spot left I turned back to Ren. "What happened when I was gone?"

He looked at me solemnly. "Oh god, Kyle, it was horrible. You went out that one night to scare away those guys? Well, when you didn't come back, Spot was worried. He said that you wouldn't've just not come back, or do something else, unless you didn't have a choice. We suggested to send a few boys to go look for you, but Spot said that would be worse. If something happened, or you got caught, he didn't want us caught too, so we waited. The next morning, before the morning bell had even rung, them boys was outside bangin' on our doors. So we sent Spot and some of the bigger boys out. There was me, and Aster, and Neck. And when we got there, they held up some bloody scrap of a shirt or something. Said that the next time we sent someone, there wouldn't even be a scrap left. Well Spot flips out, starts bashing in one of their heads askin' what 'd happened to you. But all they said was, 'she's never coming back, don't look for her'. Spot wanted to go to the police, but we told him notta. Thought that things might get worse for us. But, they never came back after that. We were fine. Except Spot. It took us a week to even get 'im out on the streets again, but even then, he didn't sell as much. Didn't take us much. Didn't walk or talk as much. He tried to act fine, especially with news of this strike, but you comin' back is really a miracle."

I was shocked. "How did you guys survive without me? Spot didn't leave for a week? What did he eat?"

"Oh, well some boys found him some food. We all thought that him starving himself to death would not help Brooklyn, so we figured protecting him was our only option."

I smiled. "I hear the Manhattan Newsies do that all the time."

"What?" Ren asked curiously.

"Protect one another."


End file.
